


Making Up

by NikoNotHere



Series: Paul x Schneider Series [2]
Category: Rammstein
Genre: Angry Sex, Arguing, Bickering, Conflict Resolution, Happy Ending, Locked In, M/M, Making Up, Post-Coital Cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:07:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23978698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikoNotHere/pseuds/NikoNotHere
Summary: Flake is sick to death of Paul and Schneider's bickering. He locks them in his hotel room and demands they work things out, lest they risk being stuck in the room indefinitely.
Relationships: Paul Landers/Christoph Schneider, Till Lindemann/Christian Lorenz
Series: Paul x Schneider Series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1730440
Comments: 16
Kudos: 45





	Making Up

Paul grabbed a fistful of Schneider's hair and yanked, hard. Schneider whimpered, but it ended up sounding more like a moan. It only served to fan Paul's inward fire hotter.

His breath ran ragged as he fucked Schneider, sweat trailing down his back from the effort and making his shirt stick wetly to him. He railed into him, not kindly, and growled between gasps of air due to his breakneck pace. 

"Fuck… fuck…. You're fucking mine, Chrissy," Paul panted. "And if you act like an asshole… you're gonna get fucked like one."

He yanked Schneider's head back again by his short dark hair, causing the man bent over the bed to yell out in ecstasy.

Half an hour earlier, the two had been in the midst of a week-long feud, barely speaking to each other unless it was to snipe or grouch. 

Flake had been absolutely sick of it. He'd tried to ignore it for well on 6 days, but he reached his breaking point when Schneider pointedly refused to pass the salt when Paul asked for it.

"That's *IT*," Flake exploded, shooting up from the table and grabbing both Paul and Schneider's arms. Startled, they both followed him as he stomped out of the hotel lobby with them in tow. They looked at one another, almost terrified of what Flake was doing. 

He marched them back to his hotel room and flung the door open. After shoving them inside, he yelled at Till who'd been busy watching TV to get the hell out. 

He obeyed quickly, seeing the worried expressions on Paul and Schneider's faces, as well as the rage in Flake's. 

Once the two were inside and staring wide-eyed at him, Flake brushed his hands together.  
"Now. You two are going to stay right here until you sort this stupidity out. I don't care how long it takes. Till is going to stay outside the door and make sure. I'm going to eat the rest of my breakfast."

Flake stomped back to the door, and on his way out, angrily reiterated, "Work your shit out!" He slammed the door.

Paul and Schneider looked at each other silently for a moment.

"Do you think he's serious?" Schneider finally ventured to ask, the first non-sarcastic words he'd spoken to Paul in nearly a week. He couldn't even remember what had started their little spat, just that it was important enough to keep harping on.

"There's no way." Paul marched confidently to the door and tried to open it. He nearly ran face-first into it when it didn't budge.

"Flake says you two need to be friends again before you can leave," Till's voice called from the other side of the door. "And yes, he's serious."

Paul's face suddenly fell into a scowl.  
"I didn't get to eat my bagel," he griped, stomping back over to the bed and flopping down on it. "I'm hungry."

"You're always fucking hungry," Schneider quipped, the sass back into his tone.

Paul turned his head to glare over at Schneider, who ignored it and sat himself down in one of the chairs with the TV remote Till had abandoned. He had been watching some American soap opera that Schneider couldn't stand. He changed the channel with a disgusted noise.

"Hey!"

Schneider lazily looked over at Paul who was now an irritated lump on the bed. He'd pulled his feet up and crossed them, making him look even smaller than he normally did. Schneider wanted to laugh at how absurd he looked, the anger in the shorter man's eyes diminished greatly by his comical appearance.

"Hey what?" Schneider responded cooly.

"Hey, *cut that shit out,*" Paul said emphatically. "I'm sick to death of your stupid little snarky remarks every time I speak."

"Maybe you shouldn't speak stupidly then."

Now he'd done it. Schneider could practically see the snap in Paul's temper at that. He didn't much care. He knew Paul wouldn't lay a hand on him though, and pushing his buttons was just so *fun*.

Paul unfolded himself from the bed and stood up. Schneider raised an eyebrow as he watched him, nearly daring him with a look to come over.

Apparently thinking better of it, Paul instead went over to the mini bar and began to dig through it. Satisfied that he'd kept Paul at bay for the time being, Schneider turned his attention back to the TV and the terrible crime drama that was unfolding on it. While he didn't enjoy the plot, it was still a nice distraction from being locked in a room with one of the most irritating people currently on the planet. He shot another glare over at Paul, who had turned his back to Schneider as he emptied the tiny refrigerator. Schneider rolled his eyes, but didn't comment. Let Paul run up Flake's room bill. Maybe then he'd think before locking his band mates in it next time.

Schneider found himself somehow engrossed in the bad TV show for a few minutes, and was surprised when commercials came on. He hadn't expected to be following the story so closely. He stretched a little on the chair, and was pleased when a cologne commercial appeared on screen. 

One of his basest enjoyments, ever since he was young, had been watching the overly made-up models used in cologne and perfume commercials. They were always rippling with chiseled muscles and beautiful breasts, their flawless skin always looking smoother than silk; and the commercials always seemed to focus on their bright eyes, shining and piercing through the TV.

Absently, Schneider shifted his legs to accommodate his semi-hardness as he continued to mindlessly enjoy the commercial.

"Ah HA!"

Schneider jerked away from the loud yell beside his head.  
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he accused, glaring at Paul's smug face that was way too close to his own. The man had a bag of chocolate covered nuts in his hand and was loudly crunching them as he continued to smirk, taking a few steps back to gloatingly stare at Schneider.

"You're so pent up a damn commercial gets you going," Paul said past a mouthful. He gestured at Schneider's lower half, causing Schneider to scowl and cross his legs in annoyance.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he muttered, looking away.

"We've not had sex in over two weeks!" Paul exclaimed, dropping the bag on a nearby desk. "I know I've not had the time or drive to do anything by myself. Judging by the look of you--" Schneider shuffled his legs uncomfortably under Paul's pointed gaze, "--you haven't either."

Schneider angrily kicked a leg out in Paul's direction with a snarl.  
"Fuck off."

"No. You've been a royal prick for two weeks and it stops now."

Schneider's eyebrow shot up again, with a combination of irritation and surprise.  
"And how do you expect to manage that? I'm still very, very pissed at you."

"So am I," Paul said, his voice lowering to an octave Schneider rarely heard him use. He was now thoroughly intrigued.

"Till won't let us leave unless he thinks we've made up," Schneider reminded. 

"Yes."

Schneider was taken aback by the fire he saw suddenly smouldering in Paul's eyes. He swallowed self-consciously as Paul stared hard at him, having walked back over and come to a stop right in front of his chair.

"Get up."

Schneider rolled his eyes, trying to lighten the mood. It was hard to stay sassy and pissy with Paul looking at him like that.  
"You're not in a place to ask things of me. If I don't want to sit and chit-chat with you, I'm sure as hell not going to respond to your requests."  
Schneider tried to turn the volume up on the TV and look around Paul, pointedly choosing to ignore him.

Paul snatched the remote from Schneider's hand, and before he even had a moment to protest, Paul grabbed a fistful of Schneider's shirt and hauled him to his feet.

Schneider stumbled, shocked at the power he felt from Paul's grip. He had a tendency to forget how much muscle Paul had beneath his shorter stature. He was a powerhouse, only barely concealed behind his normally soft, small and happy-go-lucky demeanor. Schneider had only witnessed him throwing his weight around on rare occasions, and never in the bedroom.

"The fuck are you doing, Paul?" Schneider demanded, but Paul shoved him backward so fast he lost his footing as well as his angry outburst. He tripped and fell back onto the bed, with Paul following and pinning him roughly.

"Get the fuck off--" Schneider tried to spit out angrily, but a crack across his cheek suddenly shocked him into silence. 

"Shut up," Paul snarled. 

Schneider was too stunned from the slap to argue. Paul had never hit him before, and it was both alarming as well as, well…

Hot.

He inhaled sharply as Paul grabbed his shirt again and pulled, yanking Schneider's face up to his own.

"Pants off," Paul demanded, hauling his own down with his free hand. He then released Schneider's shirt, and without really thinking, Schneider obeyed. He got stuck fumbling with his zipper, and Paul smacked his hands out of the way. The smaller man grabbed at Schneider's jeans and yanked fiercely, probably fucking the zipper up permanently. A complaint rose in Schneider's throat, but halted before becoming an utterance as he looked into Paul's eyes. 

Paul's gaze was steeled, an angry, fiery gray that shot a pang from Schneider's chest straight down to his groin. 

"Turn around and bend over."

Schneider obeyed, almost scared what would happen if he didn't. The borderline fear thrilled him deeply as he flipped over on the bed, sliding himself down into a submissive position. The fear wasn't real; he trusted Paul with his life. But the surprise of the dominance gave him the excitement he normally associated with fear. Paul immediately grabbed a fistful of Schneider's bare ass, digging his nails into the skin. Schneider hissed, then gasped as Paul spanked where he'd been grabbing, hard. 

He felt a hot stiffness pressed insistently against him then, and he tensed up. He wasn't used to being on the receiving end. Schneider turned and tried to voice his hesitation, but Paul grabbed the back of his neck. He pressed Schneider's face into the bed roughly, shutting him up. 

"It's time for you to learn some goddamn respect," Paul muttered before spitting into his hand. 

"Fuck you," Schneider's muffled voice piped up, the last remnant of his earlier anger coating the words.

Paul snorted.  
"No. Fuck *you.*"

With that, Paul thrust his hips forward, and Schneider cried out as a stabbing, burning, and overwhelming feeling of fullness engulfed him. Paul stuttered after pushing himself to the hilt inside Schneider, moderately stunned at the feeling. He'd nearly forgotten what it was like. 

Schneider whimpered beneath him, and tried to move up onto his elbows. Paul snapped back to himself and growled as he pushed Schneider's head back down into the bed. He began jerking his hips, roughly thrusting and rutting into his partner. He got up to speed quickly, pulling gasp after gasp from Schneider. The slapping of skin meeting skin, hard, filled the room with their mingled gasping and groaning. Paul lost himself for several minutes in the feeling of complete domination. It had been so long...

With a brief thought, Paul slid his hand up to Schneider's hair and yanked, hauling his head back. Schneider let loose a whining moan that only made Paul's thrusts harder. Sweat began trailing down Paul's skin, his shirt clinging to him from the moisture.

"Fuck… fuck… You're fucking mine, *Chrissy,*" Paul panted, using the terrible nickname Schneider outright despised. "And if you act like an asshole… you're gonna get fucked like one."

After another firm yanking back of Schneider's head, Paul released his hair and grabbed his hips, digging his fingers into the skin so hard he knew he'd be leaving bruises. He hauled Schneider's hips to meet his own, pulling Schneider around like a fuck toy as he angrily railed into him. Paul's legs burned from the effort of clenching and throwing himself deeply into Schneider, but he didn't slow his frantic, anger-fueled movements.

Schneider's breath came in short gasps, accentuated by sharp notes of both pain and pleasure. His mind reeled from the arousal and flipped positions. The sensations blended into a rhythmic swirling of firmness beating into and out of him. Why the hell didn't Paul take control more often? 

That thought erased itself as he felt Paul's body weight thrown down onto him, and his teeth latching onto the side of his neck as he pounded even harder.

Schneider cried out from the sharp, lancing pain of the bite that was surely drawing blood. Paul groaned and snarled next to his ear, releasing Schneider's neck from his teeth as he pushed as far deep inside him as he could and held it.

Schneider felt pulses, a wetness that invaded every sense with throbbing waves. He threw his head back at the sensation and gripped the blankets, then suddenly felt himself somehow following Paul. Schneider's hips bucked against the bed as he finished with a throaty yell, barely registering Paul's hand that had slipped under his stomach to stroke him to completion.

When he was done, his limbs shook hard from the overwhelming sensations and euphoric rush. Paul pulled out without a word, also panting and trembling from the effort. One of his hands stayed on Schneider's back, gently resting.

Schneider dared to roll himself over so that he was now gasping for air while staring at the ceiling instead of the ugly hotel bedspread. Paul's hand followed, now resting on Schneider's abdomen. Schneider glanced down, and saw Paul was just standing, eyes bleary and mouth open as he caught his breath. 

Paul finally focused his gaze on Schneider. A smile quirked at the corner of his mouth and he walked up closer to the bed. He placed an open-mouthed kiss, almost a suck against Schneider's belly. He then patted it, and looked back up at Schneider's face. 

The taller man grinned, then flopped his head back against the bed.  
"You're hot when you're angry," Schneider said breathlessly.

Paul chuckled and swatted playfully at one of Schneider's knees.  
"And you're hot when you're mine."

Paul flopped down on the bed next to Schneider, not caring that he was laying in the combination of their dual messes. He grabbed Schneider and rubbed his sweaty face into his neck, prompting a tired grunt from Schneider. He stroked Paul's head, happily basking in the afterglow. With a quick motion, Paul pushed his hand under his partner's backside and grabbed his ass cheek again possessively. Schneider winced and pushed Paul back.  
"That hurts," he whined. "Stop it. I'm already not gonna be able to walk right, thanks to you."

Paul grinned and smooched the protesting man's cheek, but he obliged and released his butt. 

After a moment of breathless quiet between the two, Paul ventured, "I think this qualifies as "working shit out" by Flake's standards. What do you think?"

Paul offered a hand to Schneider who took it gratefully and sat up.  
"I agree completely. Shall we go back to breakfast?"

Paul smiled wide, then kissed Schneider's cheek lovingly.  
"You can read me like a book."

After a quick cleanup, readjusting of their clothes and smoothing of hair, the two left the room without incident. Curious, Schneider looked around for Till who was supposed to guard their door.

Muffled noises echoed down the hotel hallway, and Schneider motioned for Paul to follow him. The two tiptoed over to the stairwell, and peered through the small glass window of the door.

Flake was currently pressed up against the wall under the stairs with half his shirt stuffed in his mouth and all of Till stuffed into his ass.

Wide-eyed, Paul and Schneider leapt back from the door and stifled their laughter until they were a safe distance away. Paul tried to pull Schneider away in a hurry, but he whined and limped along with a pained protest about his sore ass. They managed to make it to the lobby, tears rolling down their faces as they cackled loudly.

"I guess our making up inspired Till to do some "making up" of his own," Schneider surmised. 

Paul laughed even harder, and the two made their way back to their breakfast.

**Author's Note:**

> This is yet another cute little one shot for my friend Tora <3 I want to make these one shots like a grouping or something, but I'm not sure how to go about doing that if they're all disconnected/one-shots, but all with Schneider/Paul. I'm still fairly new to the workings of A03 xD
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!!


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